Quickly, and amid her sighs, Through the grass her baby wrestled, Smiled on her its father's eyes, And unto her bosom nestled. And with sudden, joyous glee, Half the wife's and half the mother's, "Still the best is left," said she: "I have learned to live for others." ONE AND TWO. I. If you to me be cold, Or I be false to you, The world will go on, I think, Just as it used to do; The clouds will flirt with the moon, The sun will kiss the sea, The wind to the trees will whisper, And laugh at you and me; But the sun will not shine so bright, The clouds will not seem so white, To one, as they will to two; So I think you had better be kind, And I had best be true, And let the old love go on, Just as it used to do. II. If the whole of a page be read, If a book be finished through, Still the world may read on, I think, Just as it used to do; For other lovers will con The pages that we have passed, And the treacherous gold of the binding Will glitter unto the last. But lids have a lonely look, And one may not read the book-- It opens only to two; So I think you had better be kind, And I had best be true, And let the reading go on, Just as it used to do. III. If we who have sailed together Flit out of each other's view, The world will sail on, I think, Just as it used to do; And we may reckon by stars That flash from different skies, And another of love's pirates May capture my lost prize; But ships long time together Can better the tempest weather Than any other two; So I think you had better be kind, And I had best be true, That we together may sail, Just as we used to do. THE FADING FLOWER. There is a chillness in the air-- A coldness in the smile of day; And e'en the sunbeam's crimson glare Seems shaded with a tinge of gray. Weary of journeys to and fro, The sun low creeps adown the sky; And on the shivering earth below, The long, cold shadows grimly lie. But there will fall a deeper shade, More chilling than the Autumn's breath: There is a flower that yet must fade, And yield its sweetness up to death. She sits upon the window-seat, Musing in mournful silence there, While on her brow the sunbeams meet, And dally with her golden hair. She gazes on the sea of light That overflows the western skies, Till her great soul seems plumed for flight From out the window of her eyes. Hopes unfulfilled have vexed her breast, Sad smiles have checked the rising sigh; Until her weary heart confessed, Reluctantly, that she must die. And she has thought of all the ties-- The golden ties--that bind her here; Of all that she has learned to prize, Of all that she has counted dear; The joys of body, heart, and mind, The pleasures that she loves so well; The grasp of friendship, warm and kind, And love's delicious, hallowed spell. And she has wept, that she must lie Beneath the snow-wreaths, drifted deep, With no fond mother standing nigh, To watch her in her silent sleep.